Brother Wolf

Ch 23 Basement

Steven turned on a bank of light switches at the bottom of the stairs, illuminating to the far recesses of the subterranean complex. It was mostly open, with support pillars spaced throughout the vast area. There were work stations filled with various equipment in different areas.

Steven led us across the expanse. I recognized a wood lathe and various other wood-working tools in one area. Another section was devoted to pottery, with a pottery wheel, kiln, and unglazed cups and bowls stacked on shelves. Reams of material were behind rows of old sewing machines.

"People have been here recently," I said,  suddenly stopping, having caught traces of fresh scents.

"Some of the elderly still come on the weekends," Steven told us as he kept trudging forward. "This used to be a thriving industrial area, where the younger generation could learn trade skills. Used to be," he muttered again.

"I remember this," Maximus suddenly declared, heading toward a ream of patterned material. "My father had a shirt that looked like this."

"Gifts for the alpha," Steven snarled.

Maximus turned on the older man, his face a grimace at Steven's disrespectful tone.

"It can be a thriving area again," I said, wondering by the amount of resentfulness in Steven just how bad it had gotten when Maximus's father was at the helm.

"They used to sell things in the storefronts," the younger Steve chimed in. "I remember going into them when I was a little kid; clothes, knick-knacks, foodstuff. We rent those spaces out now."

"And where does the money go?" Maximus demanded. "Brother said I was at risk of losing my territory because no one paid the taxes. You..."

He stopped at my hand on his shoulder.

"We're fixing all of that." I waited until Maximus swallowed his anger, giving me a nod. "Still, it's a good question. Ed has an accountant he trusts going through the records. There have been some questionable things going on with the finances. It will be interesting to see what we learn from those ledgers in the briefcase."

"I don't understand," the younger Steve said. "I've helped with the books in the last few years. I wrote the checks for the property tax out myself."

"Checks that probably never got mailed," Cherokee surmised. "Can I guess? You've been skimming cash," he accused Steven. "When it got to the point where the IRS would auction off the building, you could step in with a next-of-kin claim to ownership and pay the back taxes, getting the building put in your name?"

Steven looked uncomfortable with all the sudden stares aimed at him, including his son's.

"Dad, don't we already own the building?"

"You do not," Maximus growled. "It is my territory!"

"Dad?"

"He owns it," Steven ground out, knowing his plan had been exposed and would never see fruition.

"I don't understand," the younger man complained. "You said..."

"I didn't think the heir would survive," Steven interrupted. "Not with that bastard..." Steven stopped himself with a shake of his head. "I took steps to make sure the building stayed in the family. Sue me," he muttered dejectedly.

Maximus looked conflicted, hearing in Steven's words confirmation, from yet another source, of his old alpha's plan to have him fight someone. The boy looked dismal at Steven's expectation that Maximus would die in the fight.

"What you're looking for is in the back," Steven said as he continued walking.

I began to understand more about the community structure I'd only read about in the chronicles. Maximus's extended human family could earn money by selling the items they made here in the storefronts.